


Ten Years at Home

by Curator



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Merry Month of Cohen, Tumblr Fic Event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 02:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18907789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/pseuds/Curator
Summary: For the Merry Month of Cohen Star Trek Fandom Event. Selection:There's a lover in the storyBut the story's still the sameThere's a lullaby for sufferingAnd a paradox to blame— “You Want It Darker,” by Leonard CohenConcept: You don’t know Endgame Admiral Janeway like you think you do.





	Ten Years at Home

Kathryn Janeway wasn’t on the bridge when _Voyager_ entered Earth’s atmosphere. 

On one of their nightly subspace calls, Reg Barclay had warned her about plans to turn the ship into a museum. So, Kathryn was in Tuvok’s quarters, alone, repairing bulkheads. The desperate, frenzied gashes were no one’s business — museum authenticity be damned.

She ached for her captain’s chair.

Tuvok was sedated, of course, in sickbay pending transfer to a Starfleet Medical psychiatric facility. Chakotay was in sickbay, too, his vital signs the same flutter they had been for months. Samantha Wildman was in the morgue only because Mike Ayala was the last crew member Kathryn had agreed to bury in space, and that was a year ago.

There was a pop of fireworks and Kathryn pivoted, instinctively reaching for her phaser. When she realized the homecoming celebration had begun, she cried with relief. 

It was over.

Later that evening, when Kathryn finally met Reg in person, she was surprised by how shy he was. Over the last five years, they had told each other everything.

“Social anxiety?” she said softly. “With me?”

“You’re right,” he replied. “I’m sorry.”

She took his hand. “Prove it.”

The next morning, she stood at the window of Reg’s apartment — their apartment — and watched the sunrise. Sol painted Earth’s dawn orange and yellow, just as Kathryn remembered. 

“You’ve been looking forward to this,” Reg said, slipping his arm around her waist. Kathryn leaned against him and cried again. 

She had been wrong. 

It wasn’t over.

“They deserve to see it, too.”

“Is this your depression?” he asked. “We’re supposed to get the therapy puppy today.”

“No,” she replied, wiping her eyes. “It’s my guilt. I thought getting home would help. But it’s worse. Now, I’m helpless. It’s not like I can change the past.”

That’s when she got her idea — and told him immediately. 

“You’re talking about violating the Temporal Prime Directive,” Reg whispered even though they were alone.

Kathryn grinned through her tears. “It’s only violating the Temporal Prime Directive if I succeed. If I don’t, it’s a way to channel my guilt. So, let’s get the puppy, but why not try this, too?”

Reg wrung his hands, but he nodded agreement. 

First, they attempted prevention. 

Was there a way to scatter the Caretaker’s coherent tetryon beam before it could scan the _Val Jean_? To disperse the displacement wave that would pull the ship across the galaxy? 

Most nights they would spend an hour or so on equations, then take the dog for a walk.

“What if —?” she would say. 

“Now do you see how you got your name, Chroniton?” Reg would ask the dog. 

Kathryn would laugh and play-punch his arm. “Call her Connie. No one has to know!”

When they realized prevention options wouldn’t work, Reg said to consider the wormhole found by the _Equinox_ crew. Kathryn refused, explaining she wanted to get her people to the Alpha Quadrant, not expose them to different Delta Quadrant dangers. 

So, Kathryn and Reg mapped possibilities. 

Could they correct the temporal displacement of the micro-wormhole to Romulan space? Deploy the Sikarian spatial trajector not just once, but twice? Compensate for the subspace torque that would rip _Voyager’s_ nacelles off at warp 10? Stabilize the Barzan wormhole? Determine proper slipstream phase corrections for the quantum drive? 

“Some couples play holonovels,” he would say from his side of the padd-covered desk. 

“Some couples fight all the time,” she would point out, scratching the dog’s ear with one hand while tapping in equations with the other. “We’re doing something productive.”

It was true. They had put her guilt in a manageable box except when it flared around the anniversary of _Voyager’s_ homecoming. Plus, their research had generated four scientific papers, one of which had won an award.

They would go out with friends: “Why do I have to sit through the ballet when I think it’s boring?” “Because you and Mark complain together beautifully, just like Carla and I do at the Federation Food Festival.”

They would take vacations: “I’m beginning to wonder, did you miss Earth more or Risa?” “If anyone from _Voyager’s_ crew asks — Earth.”

They would attend family functions: “Your sister’s kids are bratty.” “So are your brother’s kids, that’s why we have a dog.”

On nights when they didn’t get a chance to try any calculations, Kathryn would ask if they could squeeze in a few extra the next night. 

Reg always said yes. 

She had been back for nine years and was in her home office writing the second-to-last chapter of her textbook on the Borg when she realized: grid nine eight six. The transwarp hub. _Voyager_ had flown right past it, what, seven years in? 

Kathryn adjusted for upgraded weapons technology, did the basic math, then double- and triple-checked her work. 

It was possible. _Voyager_ could fight its way to the hub and get home sixteen years early. She could save Tuvok, Chakotay, Seven, and — she wrote the names and dates from memory — twenty-two additional crew members.

“Reg!” Kathryn called, her voice trembling. “I think I’ve got it!”

“What?” he shouted. Reg had heard her. He just wasn’t expecting a breakthrough, well, ever. 

It took another year to fine-tune the calculations, secure the chrono-deflector, and arrange to get the tachyon pulse emitter from the Klingons.

All the while, they talked.

“I remember how stubborn and self-righteous I used to be,” Kathryn said one night on their walk. “Lonely, too. I don’t even know how to talk to that person.”

“You’re saying you’re not stubborn now?” Reg replied.

She glared at him and then dissolved into giggles.

Another night, Reg clipped Connie off her leash at the dog run and asked, “Are you going to tell your past self about us?”

“No,” Kathryn replied. “I’m not going to tell her about B’Elanna’s work with the High Council or Harry’s captaincy, either. Anything good will deter her from the plan.”

They were in bed when he held her tighter and said, “Just because you can do this doesn’t mean you have to, you know.”

“I know,” she murmured, her head on his chest, her leg curled around his. “But I can give twenty-five members of my crew the same chance at happiness I’ve gotten.” She kissed him gently, then rested on his chest again. “They deserve to come home, too.”

When they went to the reunion, Reg toasted the _Voyager_ family that had adopted him as one of their own. But their final preparations had heightened the annual spike in her guilt, and Kathryn had trouble celebrating.

“Maybe you should wait until it clears,” he suggested when they got home. “The newsvids and the anniversary always get you down. Go when you’re more yourself.”

“No.” Kathryn knew her voice was steely and her eyes hard. “I have to go when it’s bad like this. My past counterpart won’t do it for herself, but it’ll scare the hell out of her.”

“You said she’ll do it for Tuvok.”

“That’s my trump card. I’ll use it if I have to.”

“She won’t care about Chakotay or Seven?”

“Oh, she’ll care. She’ll be on her last legs of being hung up on Chakotay and Seven will still be like a daughter to her. She might not do it for them, though. Trust me, if nothing else works, finding out about Tuvok will break her.” Kathryn’s hard eyes shined.

Reg held her hand in his. “I’ll contact the Oakland shipyard to arrange for a shuttle. Just promise me you’ll think about what I’ve said.” He had asked to come with her more times than Kathryn could count. “I’ll wear a personal cloaking device. They won’t even know I’m there. I can help you, support you.” 

“Reg,” she warned, and he dropped the topic. Again.

After she left and the EMH pried the information out of Reg, the Doctor used Reg’s computer to open a channel to Captain Harry Kim. 

The EMH explained the situation, then said, “Harry, your ship is close enough to stop her.”

“I’ll double-check the device she’s getting from Korath.” Harry leaned back in his ready room chair. “I don’t trust that guy.”

The Doctor looked from Harry to Reg and back again. “I don’t think either of you is taking this seriously. The admiral is going to try to alter the timeline!”

“She’s not going to try — she’s going to succeed. We worked toward this for ten years,” Reg admitted. “Part of me never thought it would happen, but I think she always knew it would.”

“I’ll stop her, Reg,” Harry said. “For you.”

Harry terminated the signal. 

The EMH lectured Reg one more time, then strode out. 

Once the door closed, Reg re-opened the channel. 

“Harry,” Reg said. “Make sure she’s okay. Then … let her go. We had a great ten years. I just hope — I hope this time she can be on the bridge when they get home.”

**Author's Note:**

> So much appreciation to Klugtiger, beta extraordinaire, for her usual spot-on advice. Appreciation to MiaCooper for organizing this fandom event.
> 
> Season 7, episode 25, “Endgame”  
> BARCLAY: This should be everything you need.  
> JANEWAY: The shuttle?  
> BARCLAY: Waiting for you at the Oakland shipyard. I wish you'd let me come with you.  
> JANEWAY: Sorry, Reg, but this is my mission. Besides, if you leave there won't anyone to teach those eager young cadets about the Borg.  
> BARCLAY: Oh. I made you some fresh tea for the trip. Not that replicated stuff.  
> JANEWAY: Thank you, for everything. I wouldn't have been able to do this without you.  
> BARCLAY: Oh, don't remind me.


End file.
